


The Two Faces of Bracca

by ReclessAbandon



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Bracca - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Oblivious, Oblivious Reader, Oneshot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, clueless, non-jedi, non-jedi reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReclessAbandon/pseuds/ReclessAbandon
Summary: Unable to voice out his affection for you, Cal decides to openly express it through his actions as the two of you go through a night of an intimate get-together and late-night talks.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Reader
Kudos: 47





	The Two Faces of Bracca

The rain had stopped for once in Bracca.

Cal’s division was granted a half-day. It has been a while since they last received such a privilege—that is technically a work benefit—after working on the new acquisitions for a whole week.

“See ya later, Cal!” Prauf waved as Cal walked away.

“Yeah, you too!” the young boy waved back.

He navigated through the inside of the gigantic machinery: shimmying through tight spaces, scaling grates from one level to another, and swung on ropes between large gaps. Cal was a natural at this—after all, he practically grew up here. After passing by a few more workers who have recognized him—and his purpose—they point him to a direction the moment they meet eyes with him; Cal, in turn, nods back at them as a silent thanks, then continues on his way.

He traverses through a series of winding turns in halls that are now tilted sideways due to the position of the ship, risky climbs that involved grabbing on rickety ventilation grates, and climbing up a thick cable as the last part of his route to reach the bridge of an abandoned Republic frigate.

“Hey, [y/n]!” he called as he pulls himself up to the ledge of the opening.

You immediately stop your welding, took off you mask and acknowledged his presence.

“Oh Cal, hey there,”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He walked up to you and stood next to you, glancing over your shoulder and studying whatever it was you were tinkering.

“What are you still doing here? Today’s a half day!”

“Oh, right. I clocked out earlier with the rest of you guys, I just went back to finish this.”

“A speeder?”

“Yeah, well, sometimes the lifts barely fly or that the pilot droid’s busted so I figured this would be a better alternative—it’s only a prototype. I think it isn’t conducive for driving yet. I was just about to finish for today.”

You blanketed the speeder with an old canvas tarp and prepared to get yourself cleaned. Cal willingly helped you out in putting away your tools.

“So, are you going to Qeb’s blow-out tonight? His treat, he says.”

“Oh, that was today?”

Cal nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there!” you beamed.

“Great! I was… I was thinking we’d go there together.”

“I’d really love that, Cal,”

You could’ve sworn you spotted some color on Cal’s cheeks—even in the dimness of the sky and under the roof of your hideout. You bite your lip and pretend that you didn’t notice it.

“Well, that should be all of your stuff. I gotta go and get changed too.”

“Sure, I’ll see you tonight then,”

“Meet me at the scrapyard’s entrance gates?”

“Of course,”

Cal dismissed himself and left the bridge in the same path he got there. As soon as he got far enough from the bridge, he smuggled a celebratory smile and hissed a very private “Yes!” as he exited your hideout.

Cal met up with Prauf shortly after his visit to you.

“Oh, there you are, kid! Where have you run off to?”

“I just went to [y/n],” Cal couldn’t resist the smile curling up in his lip, it was one of those unconscious yet natural smiles. “I asked her to come with to Qeb’s little party at the pub.”

“So, it’s a date then?” Prauf teased, seeing that he was hopelessly smitten.

The warm color returned to Cal’s cheeks and he has no full control of it. The boy stammers his way to a coherent answer. Prauf bellowed in an endeared laughter.

“Come on, it’s not like that…” Cal defended.

“Oh, Cal, I think it _is_ like that!”

Cal shrugged off the teasing and headed back to his place—an abandoned Venator that he has made into his home. He sheds his black-and-orange poncho on a makeshift rack—one of the many makeshift fixtures that he has resourcefully crafted ever since he’s called dibs on the abandoned ship—followed by removing the top part of his jumpsuit and then proceeds to get himself cleaned.

It was quiet inside his Venator home, but it was a peace that he had grown accustomed to.

He splashes a handful of cold water onto his face. He tilts his face away from the basin, letting the droplets trickle down his neck, his collarbones, and finally down to the groove in the center of his chest. The moonlight shines over the mirror with his foggy reflection, he gently scratches away the grime that collected on his face which he subsequently rinses off. He sighed under the moonlight, then scoops water into his cupped hands and brings it to his mouth. For his finishing touch, he combs and rakes his scarlet hair back like how he always have kept it.

Donning a fresh, black jumpsuit and a second poncho that looks exactly the same as the one he hung, he exits the Venator and makes his way to the entrance gates of the scrapyard—exactly where he promised you and he would meet.

“There you are,”

Your voice caused Cal to spin around until he spots you standing next to him. This was his first time seeing you with your hair down, since you always wear it in a ponytail during work. He examined you from head to toe: a black shirt under a navy blue, sleeveless leather coat, beige pants, and black boots. A new sight from your usually scrapper’s blue jumpsuit and poncho.

“Have you been waiting for a while?” you hummed.

“No, no. Not really,”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Thought I kept you waiting.”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t worry,” he smiled.

Cal walked by your side on the way to the pub, the both of you shouldered through the dense crowd in the city. It wasn’t an easy route though, some of the people accidentally bump or brush against your shoulder or arm as you follow the flow of the foot traffic. Cal decided to put his hand on the small of your back—which somehow made you flinch—guiding you while keeping you close to him.

“You look great, by the way,” Cal bashfully said, in the very little window of time where neither of you are pushing your way through the traffic.

“Thanks, you too.”

Eventually, you’ve arrived to the bar where the get-together was happening. It seems that they were about to start when you and Cal came in. There weren’t many who came, but most of them were from work—ones that you worked closely with and the friendlier ones too. All of you shared a table, exchanged stories about the past week over some drinks.

“I saw [y/n] work on something cool earlier,” Cal blurted and now everyone wants in on it.

“Oh? Let’s hear it!” Qeb, the Besalisk host, insisted.

“Nah, it was only a prototype. It’s a speeder I modified that can carry a few kilos of scrap—in case the lifts are busted.”

“Dibs on the first test drive once you’ve finished it,” Cal casually blurts.

“You got it,” you smile before bringing your glass to your mouth.

At the corner of his eye, Cal saw that Prauf was looking at him funny—but the scrapper boy clearly knows the message that his friend was trying to send. When you have put down the glass, it was too late for Cal to make the move for now. The conversation evolved into a banter of engineering tips, then it eventually transitioned into a recollection of each other’s funny stories that happened at work.

Apparently, the night was still young for Cal and you, even after Qeb’s get-together treat. Cal waited until Prauf, Qeb, and the others have left. He gently nudges you on the arm.

“Come on, follow me.”

A smirk plays along his face and takes a step ahead of you. Intrigued, you willingly followed; fortunately, the foot traffic was sparse, which made it easier for you to catch up to him. Cal led you back at the scrapyard, but along the way, you realize that it’s a route that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, you’ll see!”

The farther you got, the more interesting this became.

“Careful when climbing the cable. Hope you’re not afraid of heights!”

“I’m kinda used to heights!” you chuckled.

The faint creaking of the cable that you were climbing on somehow worried you, but you didn’t let it ruin the fun; the sound of the twanging sound of the cable made your heart skip as you scaled it.

“Whoa!” you gasped when the cable loosened and jiggled, you were still clinging onto it—and you were only mere inches away from the ledge where the rope ends.

In that same split second, you felt Cal’s tight grasp on your arm, you tilt your head up and meet eyes with him.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” he reassured you.

You were startled from the near-death experience that you couldn’t say anything, though he sensed your gratitude.

“Come on, give me your other hand.” He coaxed.

You linked arms with one another and he pulls you up. He loses his footing causing him to stumble to his back, on the other hand, you landed on top of him while he was still clutching you in his arms. You gently lift your heads, exchanged glances at one another, and saw color fill your cheeks. The two of you communicated in small chuckles and shy stutters.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you bring yourself to your feet, offering him your hand which he gladly takes.

The cycle continued when you pull him up to his feet, his weight nearly made you lose your footing, but he caught you just in time by wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Got you—again.”

Cal releases you after a few seconds and then beckons you to follow him again.

“Are we close?”

“Yup!”

At last, he has led you to the highest point in the scrapyard, atop another Republic command ship but he has brought you to the roof of the main command center—or the bridge. The cold air was breathtaking, as well as the sight that the scrapyard has to offer—silhouettes of ships as far as the eye can see, dark indigo clouds looming in front of the pale, ivory moon.

“Oh wow…” you sighed. “I don’t think I’ve never seen a view of the scrapyard like this before.”

“Wait till you see Option B.”

He chuckled a bit, brings his finger to your cheek, and gently angles your head to the other direction.

The second view stole what little air remained in your lungs. It was a citywide view of Bracca: gigantic hologram projections of advertisements danced between blinding neon lights of every color, speeders and pods sped through in neat lines as they leave trails of lights from their taillights, even the people dotting the streets added some color.

“Oh God…” you gasped. “Why didn’t I see this before?”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Cal said while producing two cans of Jawa juice that he apparently bought earlier at the pub while you weren’t looking. He offered you the second one and clinked cans with one another.

You conversed while staring into the neon light-filled horizon of Bracca. The two of you had the same pose of propping your chins over your fists while sightseeing side-by-side.

Both of you spent the night with more stories, whether they were from the distant pasts—way before either of you ended up in Bracca—your plans for the future, the present, or shallow secrets. No detail was spared from this intimate conversation. In fact, it was one of the very rare moments that you actually open up—Cal was the only person you trusted and he has the same sentiment for you.

Your contagious laughter made Cal’s stomach fill with butterflies as he shared one story about himself as a child involving a cookie jar that didn’t belong to him, conspiring with one of the elderly keeper, and splitting the bounty—which were the cookies—until two in the morning.

When it appeared that neither of you have any more stories of your past to tell, you shift back into the topic of this place that he has brought you to.

“Do you always come here?”

He shakes his head, “Just occasionally.”

“I’m surprised you’ve kept a scene like this to yourself for so long. It’s just so pretty up here.”

“Yeah,” he cooed, then turned his head to you, his next word was a soft whisper. “Pretty.”

Cal watched the streaks of neon flicker as mere lines over your eyes, their glow mingled as they illuminated your face altogether, a smile slowly curls up at the corner of his lips; you slowly turn your head to him, never have you ever been _this_ physically close to him you could practically kiss him.

You shoot him a bashful smile before returning your attention to the cityscape. Seeing your smile was always enough for him, he examined your features once more—for some reason, you looked somewhat a different person when not in your scrapper’s uniform. Nevertheless, he released a long, contented sigh, savoring the night with you by his side.


End file.
